


such holy things of ours

by siehn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siehn/pseuds/siehn
Summary: “Would you just get your stubborn, feathered ass down here Castiel,” he finally shouts indignantly, sparing only a brief thought to be glad he’d picked somewhere no one was around to hear him yelling at his stubborn, dumbass angel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	such holy things of ours

**Author's Note:**

> I DO WHAT I WANT. 
> 
> it's been a wild day and i signed up for the tropefest midwinter 5k because APPARENTLY this is what it takes to get me back into writing regularly.

Dean leans against the side of the Impala, arms crossed, glaring up at the sky like it has personally offended him.

“Look, I get it,” he mutters, as if he’s in the middle of a conversation despite no one else being around. “You said some pretty heavy shit and then jumped off into the fuckin’ empty before I could say anything back,” he scowls, heart tripping at the memory.

“But I know for a fact our kid didn’t leave you there, which means you’ve been ghosting me for the past three months.” He tries to keep how much that hurts out of his voice, but it cracks anyway and he has to stop, clearing his throat. He reaches up to wipe furiously at his eyes, sighing.

“C’mon, man,” he pleads with the air, “you really gonna make me sit here and talk to myself?” It’d be like Cas, he thinks uncharitably, kicking at the dirt with his foot. “I didn’t even have time to say-“

“To say—”

He swallows hard around the feeling lodged in his throat, the fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t _say_ this shit, but –

If anyone deserves to hear it, it’s Cas.

“Would you just get your stubborn, feathered ass down here Castiel,” he finally shouts indignantly, sparing only a brief thought to be glad he’d picked somewhere no one was around to hear him yelling at his stubborn, dumbass angel.

There’s a soft _whoosh_ of wings that he hasn’t heard in years and his lungs seize up as his heart makes a desperate bid for his throat.

“Dean,” Cas says, in that tone that means ‘why are you like this’ or maybe ‘why the fuck did I choose This One’ and Dean turns around so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

“ _Cas_ ,” he breathes, taking in the sight of him: rumpled trenchcoat, that stupidly adorable backwards fucking tie; hair sticking up everywhere and those blue, blue eyes that catch hold of Dean’s and hold. And then, “shit, I didn’t think you were actually gonna-“

Cas sighs at him and Dean can’t help the laugh that punches out of him, stupid fond, and his feet move before he really makes the choice, carrying him over to Cas and not stopping until he’s pressed against the angel, holding on tight.

Cas holds him back just as tight and it’s (almost) everything Dean’s ever wanted.

“You’re a dumbass,” he mutters, accusatory, and Cas makes a protesting noise, reminding Dean of a pissed off, fluffed-up bird. “No, listen, you are,” he doubles down, pulling back just enough to meet Cas’s glare.

“You can’t _have it_?” he repeats, rolling his eyes. “You’ve had me for _years_ , Cas,” he says, just to watch those blue eyes widen, Cas inhale a sharp breath even though angels don’t need to breathe.

“Dean-“

“Nope, shut up, it’s my turn,” Dean shushes him with a finger against his lips, grinning crookedly when Cas goes cross-eyed trying to stare at it. “Of course I fuckin’ love you,” he says, meeting Cas’s eyes when they snap immediately back to him, filled with wonder.

“I’ve been in love with you for; shit, I don’t know. It feels like forever.” So many years of his traitor-heart tripping over itself when Cas was close, of it shattering into pieces when Cas was _gone_. He drags in a breath, licking his lips, watching Cas’s eyes drop to follow the movement.

“I should’a told you sooner, but,” he huffs, shifting his grip to the lapels of that damned trenchcoat, making a face. “We both know I’m shit at this.”

“You’re not,” Cas says, half-way to breathless, one hand reaching up to cup the side of his face. Dean leans into the touch, turning his face until he can kiss Cas’s palm. “ _Dean_ ,” Cas breathes, like a benediction, like Dean is hallowed and sacred. “I love you,” Cas says again, gentler even than last time, like a whispered prayer.

Like their love is a holy thing.

Dean closes his eyes against the rush of feeling, tugging lightly on Cas until the angel gets the idea and meets him halfway.

The kiss is –

Is-

Messy and inexpert and perfect. It takes them a minute to get it right and Cas’s stubble is scratchy and he keeps his eyes open the whole time and Dean never, ever wants it to end.

They only pull apart when Dean thinks he might be going lightheaded from lack of air and Cas is laughing at him but hasn’t let him go either.

“Stay,” Dean tells him, resting their foreheads together, giddy in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever been. “Can you stay?”

“As long as you want me to,” Cas promises, something warm and content and peaceful in his eyes. Dean grins at him.

“I hope you’re ready for forever then, man. You’re it for me, Cas. You’ve always been it for me,” he tells him, and that wonder is still there, right on Cas’s face.

“Let’s go home, Dean.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean agrees, kissing Cas one more time, just because he can, before reaching out to take his offered hand, tugging him towards the Impala. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
